Love Hate Relationship
by TheWickedKitty
Summary: Helga reflects on her love, and hate, for Arnold, and questions her actions toward him. One-sided Arnold/Helga. R&R!


**This is my first Hey Arnold story. I used to love this show when I was a kid, and I recently found a bunch of episodes on YouTube and I was just reminded of how much I love Arnold/Helga. So, I decided to try one from Helga's POV because I always thought her hate, and at the same time, love, for Arnold was very interesting and story worthy. I'm not sure about the setting, but I know she's thinking about this whole thing during school, first in the bathroom, then in the hallway, going to lunch.**

**And I realize that a "love/hate relationship" is when one person loves someone, but that someone hates them. But, for now, I thought I could use it as Helga hating Arnold, yet loving him at the same time. And Arnold just hating her.**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Hey Arnold or anything having to do with the show or the people working on/with it.**

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Arnold.

It's a name that I, Helga G. Pataki, have found myself drooling over. It has caused me unbearable grief, but also incredible joy. It made bad dreams go away better than that crappy dream catcher Olga made for me when I was three. It led me to collect gum from that beautiful boy's mouth and make a sculpture of him that I keep in the back of my closet.

It's such a nice name. A little old fashioned, and yet, mature and responsible. It fits him well, if I do say so myself.

If only I could get a blasted minute alone with him, I'd be a happy camper. If only I could actually tell him how I've felt about him since kindergarten instead of covering up my true feelings with a tough, angry exterior.

And it's with that thought that I ask myself: why must I hate him as much as I love him?

There is honestly nothing to hate about him. The darling boy with his football headedness and long shirt that could pass for a skirt. His kind and gentle nature, his wisdom and maturity. Everything about him is perfect.

Looking into the school bathroom mirror, focusing on the faint, red marks across my face from the many times I've slapped myself out of my daydream, I ask myself this question again: why do I hate him?

Why must I always push him down, tip his lunch tray, or trip him in the hallway? I hate to see him getting hurt, especially by me. The one person who loves him more than that goody-goody Lila or that disgustingly beautiful Ruth.

What does Arnold see in those girls? What do they have that I don't have?

Okay, so maybe they're both really nice…and pretty…and smart…and funny…Why should I blame Arnold for being attracted to them instead of mean, ugly, stupid, boring old me?

Because it sickens me, that's why.

Every time I see Arnold making googly eyes at Lila, I want to pull my hair out _just ever so much_. Oh, how I despise that Pippy Longstockings wannabe. She doesn't love him like I do, why is he going after someone who only likes him as a friend?

And Ruth. Ha! Have they ever even _talked_? This proves something I never wanted to believe about my beloved Arnold. He thinks looks are more important than anything else.

Well, okay, I can't say my looks had anything to do with him not liking me. I've been picking on him since the day we met. But…can't he see, just one time, past my rough, hard exterior into my mushy, gentle interior. It's burning with passion for him, but he doesn't notice. He only notices the pretty girls.

There are other things that contribute to love! Not just looks. They just happen to be a very nice bonus.

It disgusts me how he will overlook someone who's just average looking, but who really, deep down in her heart, truly loves him with every fiber of her being…for a pretty, popular girl.

I know I haven't made it easy on him. My actions do depict a certain hatred toward him, which I know is not fake or just a mask of my true feelings. Or, is it?

Maybe my hatred for him is just a mask of my true feelings for him. I'm so embarrassed for him to find out that I cover it up with hatred and angry cruelty.

But why am I embarrassed?

Maybe it's because I'm nervous about what he may think. Maybe I'm nervous about what our friends would think. Maybe I don't want him to find out that the girl he hates, and thought hated him with a passion, really loves him with that same passion and has been stalking him for the past four years.

One question. One million answers. One confused girl.

But, perhaps my hatred is but a mask. Maybe I really don't hate him, it's only a dislike. A strong dislike. For his personal choices on how to live his life.

I know, someday, Arnold will realize that I'm the one for him. That I'm the one that truly loves him. That I'm the one that'll help him through hard times. That I'm the one he'll be happy with.

"Watch where you're going, football head!" I hear myself shouting as I collided with my true love in the hallway on my way to lunch. He apologizes and helps me up like he always does, then turns and walks away in a huff.

I turn my back toward him and look around. Confirming that it's safe, I reach for that locket I so often gaze at. This is the closest I have ever gotten to touching him in a loving, gentle way. I think this while my finger strokes the planes of his plastered face.

And apparently, this is as close as I'll ever get…because that hatred is going to be sticking around just a bit longer.

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**I'm sorry if I stole some things from the show. I realize that some lines have been said, or implied, in the show, but I thought they would work. And sorry it's so short. Please review! I wanna see if I can write for cartoons or not…**


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